I’m not normally a morning person. But this is by far one of my most treasured memories.
After sleeping for only three hours, the 6 am feeding was a welcome retreat, for the next three hours life was simple: gaze at this little contented smile and bask in the calm that would define 6 am. Eyes shut in peaceful bliss, arms raised in total surrender, dressed in my favorite sleep-sack; my living breathing plush doll was a cuddly lovable dream come true. I could sit and admire her forever… and ever. And that’s exactly what I did.
Then at precisely 8 am my breakfast arrived: baguette with jam and hot cocoa. That’s when mummy would scurry into the shower before enjoying the last few moments of calm over breakfast. Life couldn’t get any better, and sometimes Rob would bring fresh croissants from the bakery and we would savor them together while watching our sleepyhead doze. And then 9 am would jolt us all out of our daze. Feeding time had come around. Time to nurse, spoon feed, pump, clean up, then do it all again…